Fame is a fickle beast, preying on the weak and vulnerable through its false promises of a life of luxury and worldwide adoration. It’s a concept that has been extensively explored in every conceivable artistic medium, and something that we find to be extremely resonant, especially considering so many of us yearn to spend some time in the spotlight. However, there comes a point where someone perhaps becomes slightly too famous and begins to misuse their influence, which often forces us to rethink our initial position on certain artists. The latest victim of this ongoing trend of borderline grotesque self-conceit is Abel Tesfaye, otherwise known by his stage name The Weeknd, an artist who has left an unforgettable and indelible impression on 21st-century music, but for some inexplicable reason has chosen to pursue a secondary career as an actor (and the amount of work he is putting into it makes one think that he is intent on turning it into his primary field), despite many limitations. It was slightly noticeable in The Idol, a show built around his persona, but where the problems were not restricted solely to his lacklustre performance, which allowed us to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially for a show that seemed to have something to say. Unfortunately, the same can’t be applied to Hurry Up Tomorrow, his bewildering and frankly off-putting vanity project in which he plays a fictionalised version of himself, following a particular episode in his life when he was struggling psychologically and artistically, showing his efforts to emerge from this slump, dealing with her personal problems while still attempting to be the world-renowned musician adored by millions of fawning supporters. What starts as a mildly intriguing work of cinematic maximalism quickly devolves into quite simply one of the most misguided, poorly-constructed attempts at self-reflective storytelling, with Tesfaye enlists Trey Edward Shults (a director who has received some degree of acclaim, even though his films are sometimes overblown in reputation), developing perhaps the most inexplicably deranged film of the past few years, and one that seems to pass even the most rudimentary of artistic criteria.

One would imagine that an artist who has dedicated his entire career to creativity, forming a persona based around his ingenuity and willingness to push boundaries, that his passion project would at least be partially interesting in terms of the themes that he is setting out to discuss. Unfortunately, Hurry Up Tomorrow is a meandering, mostly meaningless mess that chooses to masquerade as some profound, complex character-driven drama, but in reality is about as obvious and predictable as we would expect. The themes that Tesfaye uses as the foundation for this story are so incredibly dull and uninteresting, we have to wonder why no one took the time to actually provide any kind of feedback. By this point, it is simply not enough to create a film in which the fundamental thesis statement is simply that fame is dangerous, and many consequences come with being in the public eye that we civilians are woefully unaware of, and can only truly understand once we exist in the same space. Yet, despite positioning himself as a keen cinephile and connoisseur of the arts (and this isn’t even getting to the literal references he makes to films like The Sacrifice, Misery and The Shining – in other hands, these would be inspired, but through both Tesfaye’s heavy-handed concepts and Shults’ lacklustre direction, they’re hopelessly annoying, particularly since they have absolutely nothing to say and exist simply to showcase the supposed highbrow taste of those involved in bringing this film to life), the film is a deeply inconsistent attempt at conveying more profound meaning, searching for answers without even knowing how to ask the right questions. The idea of an artist being robbed of his primary asset (in this case his voice, something that happened to Tesfaye in reality), which is then reconfigured into a commentary on the process of fighting inner demons – here manifesting as both an abusive manager who enables the protagonist in his addictions and insecurities and a mysterious stalker who represents his internal vulnerabilities and need for validation – is far too pedestrian to be used as the entire crutch of such a film, as is the attempt to draw on the tortured artist trope, which is quite simply meaningless when it lacks any kind of sincerity or consistency during the conceptual stage.

Despite any reservations we may have about the artistic persona that he has chosen for himself as the years have gone on, Tesfaye has certainly led an interesting life – his childhood was fascinating, and his emergence as one of the most critically acclaimed and commercially popular musicians of the past quarter of a century is not without merit. Even the episode of his life on which Hurry Up Tomorrow is intriguing in its way, but one of the reasons the film is such a dismal failure is quite simply the fact that he chose to place himself in the lead role. This is not an immediate signal that the film is going to be ineffective or lacklustre, considering there are several fantastic projects with a similar approach – the problem is that Tesfaye seems to entirely lack any sense of self-awareness, and takes himself seriously to the point where it becomes difficult to see his attempts to act. He’s quite simply not a good dramatic actor, and not only is the dialogue beyond absurd (the fact that the script he and Shults wrote seemed to have avoided any kind of professional consultation is astonishing – you would imagine they would at least be open to having the screenplay proofread by someone with the expertise to notice the ridiculous dialogue), but his acting skills leave a lot to be desired. In most cases, someone would conceal their less-than-ideal style of performance behind layers of humour and gentle mockery, but the entire premise of Hurry Up Tomorrow is designed to position Tesfaye as some misunderstood victim of the system, without even considering that perhaps audiences don’t want to be bombarded by a stiff, unconvincing performance, delivered by someone who lacks any cohesive acting talent or the willingness to poke some fun at himself. It’s a deranged act of unhinged vanity from someone who we would have expected to show at least some degree of humility, especially when venturing into a medium that he professes to love, seemingly failing to realise that it takes much more than a reputation to get audiences onto your side, especially when the person in question exudes the skills of an amateur at the best of times.

Tesfaye’s performance is one of the core shortcomings of Hurry Up Tomorrow, but it’s far from the only problem we encounter throughout this film. His self-serious attitude and overinflated ego that exudes from his portrayal of the main character a symptoms of the overall issues with the film, with this dour tone extending so far throughout the film, it becomes frankly quite ridiculous, and we begin to question whether or not this is a story worth telling. As mentioned, the narrative itself is not inherently problematic – the themes are interesting in theory, but the issue resides in the execution. There is very little reason for this film to be so profoundly humourless and lacking in any kind of sincerity. It’s a cold, forthright attempt to position the protagonist as some misunderstood genius existing in a hostile world, where absolutely everyone is against him and he is seemingly the only person who can see through the veneer of reality, comprehending the true malice lurking beneath a seemingly perfect world. Unfortunately, this is the entirely wrong approach, since not only is it intellectually quite impoverished (it never quite says anything particularly meaningful), but it tries so desperately to be an atmospheric, esoteric character study, but comes across as a moody, petulant attempt to blame the surrounding world for one’s problems, and frankly quite an immature work from start to finish. It is visually striking, but no amount of stunning cinematography can compensate for the deeply bland and aimless narrative, or the tonal qualities that never once set out to achieve anything even vaguely consistent or meaningful. Shults has done enough work (which has been inappropriately lauded as generation-defining) to know the importance of paying attention to details, and his direction is just as unconvincing as Tesfaye’s writing and performance, making the entirety of Hurry Up Tomorrow an dismal misfire of a vanity project in terms of both concept and execution.

If there is one lesson to be learned from Hurry Up Tomorrow, it is that being skilled in one area does not automatically qualify someone to receive a blank cheque to do whatever they feel is appropriate and best represents their talents. This film is a minor atrocity, and there are only a small handful of moments where it even shows signs of the vaguest competence, making it quite possibly the worst film of the decade so far – and the competition is certainly stiff. This film is as shallow as a puddle and just as much of a nuisance, never being anything more than a bizarre diversion that serves as a waste of 110 minutes of our time, particularly in how it claims to be some profound, complex exploration of fame, creativity and the challenges that come when you are forced to confront your demons – all of which are fantastic themes, but which are entirely dismantled by incompetent direction, ridiculous writing, a central performance that is going to be seen as one of the worst of the last few decades (and we haven’t even touched on the equally despicable work done by Jenna Ortega and Barry Keoghan, professional actors who are so inconsistent in their efforts in this film, it represents career-worst work for both of them) and other elements that just coagulate into one of the most frustrating, poorly-constructed works in recent memory. It isn’t clear whether Tesfaye just used this film as an experiment in which he addresses ideas that he feels were worth exploring on screen as a means to get them out of his system, or if he’s going to continue to pursue acting in the future. I sincerely hope it’s the former, since he is a talented musician, but as a screenwriter and actor, he leaves far too much to be desired. It also doesn’t help that everything this film represents has been explored in more interesting and engaging ways in the past, with Hurry Up Tomorrow contributing absolutely nothing to the conversation, and ultimately being a vapid, misguided mess of a film that isn’t even enjoyably bad. It can safely be skipped, since there isn’t a single redeemable quality to be found anywhere in this absolute disaster of a film.